You Were Thinking It
by Ellenka
Summary: Letting go is painful. See how much in a little missing scene from the 74th Reaping Day and an alternative take on the goodbye between best friends. One-shot.


**Disclaimer:** Suzanne Collins owns The Hunger Games and I'm not her. If I were, the following story might have happened in the books.

**Warning**: Contains a generous serving of bittersweet fanservice.

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><p><strong>You Were Thinking It<strong>

Our day of successful hunting and glorious weather is nearing a premature end. The sun has hardly reached its zenith and the sky remains bright blue, but menacing clouds seem to thicken over our heads with every step we take towards the fence.

The wall of concrete pillars and occasionally-electrified wires is supposed to keep danger away from our district, but the opposite is true, especially today. We can deal with wild animals well enough on our own, but remain largely helpless against the artificial threat we'll have to face in few hours' time.

Two reaping balls full of paper slips.

One contains twenty slips with the name Katniss Everdeen, and one with the name Primrose Everdeen. Another contains forty-two slips with the name Gale Hawthorne.

Will any of them attract the hand of the reaper?

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><p>Gale stops just under the eaves of the forest and I turn to find out why.<p>

He lays his forage bag on the ground and looks at me, apprehensive, almost wistful. I return his intense gray gaze and recall his words from this very morning. _We could do it… run away…_

The closer to the fence we are, the more appealing the idea seems. Less viable too, because we both know we can't abandon our families, and taking them along would be too dangerous.

I mimic Gale's action and awkwardly clench and unclench empty hands at my sides. "We should be able to go back here in three hours," I force out. I _want_ us to be able to come back here. Together.

"Sure," he nods, stepping closer.

There is nothing romantic between us, and I tend to avoid changing the nature of our relationship at all costs, but when he opens his arms with a smile and a wry _for good luck_, I don't hesitate to go into them. If the odds turn against us after all, this might well be a last chance.

Closing my eyes, I melt against his strong, lean body. Holding him feels easier than admitting to myself how unwilling I am to let go. _Ever_. I don't want to lose my best friend. My Gale. I don't want to lose him.

"Tell me it's gonna be alright," I mutter into his chest, almost embarrassed by how childish it sounds.

"Catnip-" he begins, fighting to keep his voice from betraying the same doubt I feel.

"I know!" I snap. "But I need to hear it."

Gale's hot breath ruffles my hair as he leans down to whisper in my ear. "Everything will be alright."

His voice is firm but uncharacteristically soft, full of desire to make his own words come true.

"Thanks," I breathe out, and allow myself few more moments of comfort in his embrace.

He presses his cheek against the top of my head and murmurs, "We'll survive anything, Catnip."

I _want_ to believe it. "Yeah."

Just few more seconds. Few more breaths.

_Why am I thinking I can never get enough?_

Reluctantly, I let my arms drop from his shoulders and glance towards the fence. _If only we didn't have to return… if only we could run away together like he suggested…_

Chasing the foolish wish from my mind, I nudge Gale, who seems to have frozen in place, and set out towards whatever our future may hold. Gale shakes his head and follows me silently, but his voice echoes in my head.

_We'll survive anything, Catnip_.

How I want to believe him.

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><p>How I wanted to believe him…<p>

Asking for reassurances that can't be truly given is never a good idea. I might as well have jinxed us.

I'm standing on the platform as a tribute, my cold, blank face hiding the confusion in my mind that's still busy trying to grasp the significance of what just happened. No, I hadn't been reaped, my twenty slips were not enough. My little sister was, because her _one_ _single slip_ was too much. When I defeated the initial shock, I rushed forward to do the only thing I could do to save her: to take her place. Before Prim's screams of protest shattered my composure, Gale rushed in to my rescue and gently pried her clutching fingers from my dress, hoisting her up to carry her to safety while I turned to _voluntarily_ mount the gallows.

"Up you go, Catnip."

Gale's almost-steady words offered encouragement, but his eyes betrayed his mad desire to just take my hand and _run_. I turned away, willing the cameras not to discover its reflection in my own.

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><p>Prim's anguish still echoes in my ears, even though Gale has already forced her into mother's embrace and resumed his place in the appropriate section.<p>

_What if…? No, that option is simply too terrible_.

Effie's affected tones cut through my worries.

"And our male tribute is… Peeta Mellark!"

_No… not him, of all people… What's with the odds today?_

Horrified, I watch a familiar blonde head - with the clear blue eyes I'd caught watching me suspiciously often - weave through the crowd, until the Boy I Never Thanked emerges to take shaky steps towards the platform. Given the number of slips merchant kids have, so small compared to us from the Seam, I never thought this could happen. It's like another nightmare coming true, a possibility I hardly even considered.

Effie's voice disrupts the visions of bread, bruises, gratitude and guilt circling through my head.

"Any volunteers?"

My eyes, honed to notice the slightest sign of danger, find their target and cold dread roots me to the platform as I watch Gale's lips part. The very lips that hotly whispered assurances into my ear not an hour ago.

_No… no… no… you can't do that!_

Unable to shout or as much as to shake my head properly under the watchful lenses of the cameras, I catch Gale's gaze and do my best to convey everything I'm thinking.

_Don't you dare! Don't you dare to think about me… about us... think about Prim… think about our families…_

Sorrow and understanding with a hint of silent apology flit through his eyes as he forcibly bites his lower lip. I can almost taste the bitterness of the words he has to swallow. Gale bows his head for a moment before looking back up, as if unwilling to waste the last minutes of being able to see me.

I continue to pierce him with a glare as the Mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, my heart swelling with relief and clenching with grief, all at once.

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><p>Gale is the last to say goodbye to me in the Justice Building, and our precious time is already running low when he enters and crosses the plush room in a few frantic steps, opening his arms for me again. His mouth opens to speak and before I can think about it, I raise my hand in misplaced anger and plant a resounding slap on his cheek. Gale stops in his tracks, reflexively touching the bloodied corner of his mouth, and stares at me as if I just lost my mind. Might as well be true. I'd care if I hadn't lost so much more.<p>

"What the hell was that for, Catnip?" His voice is gruff, but not with anger, rather a mess of emotions I can't even begin to place.

"You were thinking it!"

The words, harsh with a mixture of accusation and regret, somehow squeeze around the choking lump in my throat as I collapse against him. "You were thinking it," I whisper into his shoulder when Gale brings one hand up to cradle the back of my head. His other arm loops around my waist, pressing me closer to his body, closer than this morning, closer than ever. My heart hammers madly against my sternum, and for a wild second I think it might just stop the moment I'll no longer be able to feel Gale's pulse complementing my own.

"I'm sorry," he breathes into my hair. "I'm sorry, Catnip. I couldn't help it. I love you. I love you far too much to bear the thought of letting you go there alone."

"I know," I whisper back. All the hints I've been striving to overlook fall into place and I _know, _and this might well be the last moment I'll ever share with him, which means there's no time for denial. My heart aches under the weight of what might have been and what might never be. I pull away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, dry but dark and clouded. "I know. And you still let me go."

"I had to, right?" he sighs. He had a promise to fulfill, and we both know that.

"Yeah. I guess I'd just throw you off the train otherwise." I lift my palm to his cheek again, this time with tenderness, and caress his hurt lip, suddenly wishing I could kiss all his pain away. Both the physical I'd caused him moment ago and the anguish of the imminent parting.

Slowly, Gale leans forward and my hand, unwilling to break contact, slides along his smooth skin until my fingers tangle in his hair.

His lips cover mine before I fully process what's happening, and the novelty and _necessity_ of the touch send my thoughts reeling.

"I'm sorry, Catnip… I'll take care of them until you return… just come back… please… whatever you do, just come back…" he gasps between kisses until they grow too intense to allow for speech. I return them without thinking, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, pouring out all the passion I've ever ignored.

As we pull away slightly, foreheads still touching, my knees buckle and my face burns. "Hey," I whisper breathlessly, digging my fingers into his arms for support, "what was that for?"

Gale bends leans down, hardly allowing me to finish speaking. "You were thinking it," he mutters against my lips, before attacking them with renewed fervor, kissing me as if nothing else in the world mattered. And for a moment, both eternal and too short, I kiss him back, in a forlorn attempt to weld us together so that nobody rips us apart.

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><p>Then a cough sounds from the doorway, followed by jeering catcalls. Lip-contact broken, we turn our heads in unison, still clasped in a desperate embrace.<p>

"Hey, Hawthorne," says Darius, stepping closer and laying a hand on Gale's shoulder. His fellow Peacekeepers pour in after him, ready to force us apart if necessary. Gale reluctantly slips his arms from my body and cold air immediately rushes in to replace their warmth.

"If you can't let her go, you should have volunteered with her," Darius continues, a light smirk playing on his lips for the benefit of his colleagues, but I see remorse and compassion in his eyes. I guess that's the only thing that stops me from hitting him too.

"No, Gale shouldn't have volunteered," I correct him, my voice steady with strength I didn't know I possessed. "He needs to take care of my family until I return."

Gale smiles proudly at my display of confidence as he reluctantly backs from the room in the merciless grip of white-gloved hands. "I will, Catnip. _When_ you return-"

The door slams in his face before he finishes, but I know we are both thinking the same thing. I can still taste the desire on my tingling lips and hear it in the three little unspoken words echoing in my heart.

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><p>We<em>'ll survive anything.<em>

I hope so_._


End file.
